


Swagger

by Emachinescat



Series: Sesquipedalian [16]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Crack, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-11
Updated: 2011-01-11
Packaged: 2018-01-14 06:16:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1255942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emachinescat/pseuds/Emachinescat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>swagger, v.<br/>(SWAG-er)<br/>To walk or strut with a defiant or insolent air; elegantly fashionable [Note: In this case 'swagger' is being used in an unorthodox way, almost as a noun, to describe Prince Arthur's cool and arrogant and awesome demeanor. It is not generally used in this form but as the idea of Arthur losing his "swagger" is key to this story, silliness and poetic license will be employed. That is all. Read – now! Go on. After this introduction, you know you want to.]</p><p>Merlin steals Arthur's "cool," and Gwaine tries to teach the prince how to be cool again. Arthur's awesomeness is now in Merlin's hands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Swagger

**Author's Note:**

> Don't own, for entertainment purposes only.
> 
> Inspired by an episode of "Big Time Rush" and with a quote from "JONAS" hidden in there somewhere.
> 
> Enjoy. :)

It is just like any other day in Camelot. Gaius is in his chambers, mixing some potions like the fate of the world rests in the bowl of sorrel and hogs wart he's crushing when the door to his room suddenly crashes open and he jumps, spilling essence of sheep brain all over the floor (because what potion isn't complete without a dash of sheep's brain?). He already has the customary "Merlin!" reprimand on the tip of his tongue when he realizes that it's the prince that has so unceremoniously burst into his quarters. Arthur's face is a bit pale and his hair disheveled and Gaius is immediately concerned. What has happened?

"Sire?" he asks almost tentatively. "What on earth happened?"

"Ga – Ga – Gaius!" Arthur stammers breathlessly and trips over a crack in the floor, landing flat on his face (which is now flushing with embarrassment). "You have to help me! I'm losing it, it's leaving, I can feel it flowing from my body as we speak! I'm fading, Gaius… FADING! I'll be gone before morning… You have to do something! I've lost it!" He whimpers melodramatically and climbs unsteadily to his feet.

Gaius is confused. "What?" he asks slowly, as if talking to a very disturbed individual (because perhaps he is).

"My swagger!" Arthur moans dramatically, collapsing onto the patient bed clumsily.

Gaius stares. "Your… what?"

"No!" Arthur snaps rather irritably. "Not my 'what,' my 'swagger,' aren't you listening?"

Gaius rolls his eyes. "I  _meant_ , what are you talking about, sire?"

Arthur flops his head back onto his pillow. "My swagger – my style, my cool, my confidence, my air of awesomeness, everything that makes me  _the_  Arthur Pendragon!  _He_  stole it from me!" He doesn't elaborate on who "he" is and Gaius has more important questions to ask at the moment… like if Arthur has lost his mind?

Gaius looks at the young prince sympathetically. Perhaps the pressure of being heir to the throne has finally gotten to him and he has cracked? "Arthur, are you sure you're not just imagining things? The mind is a powerful tool, sire. It can convince you something is happening even when it is not. I'm sure you're just as, er, 'cool' as always."

Arthur sighs in desperation. "No, Gaius – I'm serious! I have lost my swagger. I am no longer Arthur and I am going to slowly fade until there is nothing of me… I won't last the night."

Gaius frowns. He needs someone who can boost Arthur's suddenly low morale. Smiling, an idea comes to him. "If you are concerned that you have lost your 'swagger,' Your Highness," he suggests, "then why don't we find someone who can teach it to you again?"

Arthur pops up. "That just might work. Who would you suggest?"

"Well…"

* * *

"Okay, so you've lost your cool, eh? Lesson number one – you have to get your strut back."

Arthur glares at Gwaine. "I don't  _strut_."

Gwaine snorts. "Right. And I don't drink."

Arthur's steaming look tries to send visions of torment and death into Gwaine's soul but the knight simply snorts and comments, "Wow, you really have lost your style. Normally that glower would at least make my spine tingle, but…" he pauses, shifts, and grunts, "…nope, nothing. We've got some serious work to do." He looks pointedly at his prince. "Starting with your 'strut.'"

Arthur rolls his eyes. "Fine. My 'strut.' What do I do?"

Gwaine walks to the other side of Arthur's chambers and turns around like a supermodel on a runway (sure, they had supermodels in that time period… what do you think Leon does in his spare time? Don't think that the great escape from Morgana's Camelot was the first time he's worn a dress) before quite literally strutting across the floor, head held high, arms at sides, each step simply bleeding  _coolness_. Just the sight of that manly swagger will surely send an innumerable amount of fan-girls (and maybe even a few fan-boys) into crazy fits of swooning and maniacal giggles. Even Arthur feels a little light-headed at the sheer awesomeness of Gwaine's presentation.  _That_  was style. Surely he can do it.

Arthur takes a step. His head jerks forward and then crashes back. His hands are perched on his hips awkwardly and he takes another step, nearly tripping over his feet in the process. He only makes it two more paces before Gwaine stops him, bewildered. This is  _much_ worse than he had anticipated.

"Arthur," he says slowly, "you look like a drunken chicken with its head cut off."

Arthur groans. "I knew it – it's hopeless! My swagger, it's really gone!" He pales. "I feel faint!" He passes out in a  _very_ melodramatic fashion.

Gwaine snorts. This is going to be a  _long_  evening.

* * *

"Alright, now, we're going to work on your appearance. Back straight. Chin high – no, don't bend over backwards, just tilt it up a bit – poke out your lower lip a bit… not that far, you look like a cave man! … cross your arms over your chest, put a stern look on your face, lean against the wall… and present yourself as suave and sophisticated."

Arthur does what Gwaine says and Gwaine has to facepalm while holding in peals of almost uncontrollable laughter. "Arthur, I said 'suave and sophisticated,' not 'suave and constipated,'" Gwaine points out airily.

Arthur fumes before sliding down the wall and curling his knees into himself. "There's no point," he moans. "I'm no longer the coolest guy in Camelot. I may as well  _die_  now."

Gwaine scratches his head. "Well… there's always one more lesson we can try." He grins deviously.

* * *

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Arthur hisses in Gwaine's ear as a pretty serving girl whose name Arthur doesn't know walks by. He's not interested in her – in another pretty serving girl, actually – but he needs to boost his confidence, remember how to flirt and talk to the ladies without being reduced to a shriveling pile of… Merlin. The thought of his servant makes Arthur smirk and then fill with anger. He would pay…

"Go on, mate – use the pick-up line I gave you and you can't go wrong!"

Arthur bites his lip. "Okay…" He takes a deep breath, stumbles forward, and nearly knocks the girl over. Her eyes widen.

"Your Highness." She curtsies.

Arthur bites his lip. "Er… if I had… a gold piece for how… er… beautiful you are… I'd be… poor?" He is flustered and Gwaine smacks his forehead again.

The girl blinks. "Thanks for the confidence boost,  _sire_ ," she says coldly and stalks off. Gwaine hurries to Arthur, who is standing forlornly in the middle of the street.

"It was  _supposed_ to be 'If I got a gold piece every time I saw someone as beautiful as you, I'd only have one gold piece.' Not… whatever that was." He sighs. "I'm sorry, Arthur – there's nothing more I can do."

Arthur's lip quivers. "Then all is lost… unless…"

He hurries back into the castle toward Gaius's chambers.

* * *

Arthur is lying on the sick bed in Gaius's chambers, his face drastically pale, his breathing labored. Gaius hovers over him, absolutely baffled at the prince's mysterious malady. He has examined the prince and nothing is wrong with him physically – well, apart from the fact that he seems to be dying.  _That_ could prove to be a rather sizeable problem, but Gaius just can't seem to figure out what is causing Arthur's illness.

"Arthur, tell me again what you believe happened to you," the physician says as he mixes a foul-smelling potion that probably won't work but he has decided to try anyway.

"I told you," Arthur gasps feebly, " _he_  came into work this morning and he was… there's no other word for it…  _cool_. He was strutting around my room like he owned the place. He was dressed so flashily, and everyone's eyes were on  _him_  as we walked around the castle. No one looked twice at me. Even…" he coughs, "…even my father complimented him on how 'dashing' he looked and you know my… father…" His voice is rough. "The only person my father says is handsome is himself."

Gaius nods gravely, mulling this information over. "This  _is_  true, my lord. Your father prides himself on being the most handsome in the land."

"But he's not!" Arthur snaps. " _I_  am. Or at least I was. Until…"

Gaius's eyebrows climb steadily and Arthur finds himself on the verge of cowering from their awesome power. No one's eyebrows should be able to rise to such commanding heights. "Until what, sire?"

Arthur's voice is hoarse and his eyes haunted. "Not what, Gaius. Who." He reaches forward, grasps Gaius by the collar of his robes, and drags the old man close to his death bed. " _Merlin_ ," he whispers before falling back to the cot in exhaustion.

Gaius's eyes go wide. That  _boy!_  He had warned him just last night that using magic to make himself "cooler" would only result in a disaster. At that moment, the offending warlock bursts through the door, his clothing made of the finest threads and wearing a dark leather jacket of a caliber even Arthur has never worn. He's not alone. A laughing Gwen is clinging to his right arm, eyes batting flirtatiously as she gazes upon his sheer awesomeness, and Morgana, who had been sneering at Merlin just the night before with disdain, is now gripping his arm, a puddle of girly infatuation.

"Hey Gaius," Merlin says, grinning a smile that almost makes Gaius himself weak at the knees.  _How powerful was that coolness spell, anyway?_  Gaius asks himself in amazement. "How do I look?"

Before Gaius can even process what the question was, Morgana and Gwen both jump to answer.

"You look like you were sculpted by the gods themselves," Gwen breathes.

Morgana rolls her eyes. "Is that the best you can do, Gwen?" She caresses Merlin's face. "You look  _hot_."

Merlin smiles but doesn't exactly look comfortable with all the praise. Gaius feels some hope – perhaps there is more of the old Merlin left than he thought! The idea is confirmed when Merlin looks over at the sickbed and sees a fading Arthur lying there, pale as the grave and the most ordinarily bland that Merlin has ever seen him. Worry flits across his face before he turns to his entourage. "Ladies," he says suavely, and both Morgana and Gwen swoon. "Why don't you run along? I'll see you later."

Both lady and maidservant whined but did as the apple of their eyes asked. Merlin spins on Gaius. "What's wrong with Arthur?"

Arthur is the one who answers, his voice barely above a whisper. "You stole… my… swagger."

Merlin is supremely confused. "I stole your… what?"

Arthur doesn't answer but continues his previous thought. "As you grow… stronger… I grow… weaker… I'll be gone… before… morning…" He passes out, inches from death.

Merlin turns to face the physician. "Gaius, please, you have to do something to help him! What's happening?"

Gaius sighs. "I warned you not to use magic to make yourself cooler, Merlin. The consequences could be dire – although they were much more dire than even I could have foreseen."

Merlin's face turns almost as pale as Arthur's. "You mean…  _I_  did this?"

Gaius nods grievously. "Just like with the Cup of Life, the Cauldron of Coolness has powers that should not be reckoned with. Just as with the power of life and death, there must be a death for there to be life, so it is with 'swagger'. For there to be awesomeness made, awesomeness must be taken. And much like your magic is not just a tool but is who you  _are_ , a part of your very soul, Arthur's swagger, his coolness, is his."

"I was getting tired of being so amazing anyway," Merlin confides hurriedly as he glances over his shoulder at Arthur's pathetic form. "Not a moment of peace, the girls constantly fighting over me and trying to steal my clothes – they took my sock without taking off my shoe;  _how did they do that?_ " the horrified wizard asks, clearly disturbed by some of the fangirlish attention he has received today.

"Merlin – focus please," Gaius admonishes.

"Right – what I was saying is that it's not all it's cracked up to be, I guess. I was smothered by adoring fans and people I didn't even know. I mean,  _Uther_  even asked me where I got my jacket and wanted me to refer him to my barber!" He rubs his temples. "I don't know how Arthur does it all the time, Gaius. And if he's dying because of my own selfish whim, then I'll never forgive myself. So I must give up my coolness for him." He snaps his fingers and suddenly Gaius is struck by how… normal and not-cool Merlin looks.

Arthur leaps instantly out of the bed, cooler than ever, eyes sparkling with that gleam that sent shivers down girls' spines. He struts across the room and squeals (in a very manly voice, of course), "My  _swagger!_  It's back!" He glares at Merlin and the warlock gulps. "And  _you_ ,  _Mer_ lin, are going to clean every single one of the stalls in every stable on the palace grounds, and you are going to regret ever trying to be cooler than me!"

Merlin shrinks back a little. "But… I wasn't…"

"I'm the coolest man in Camelot, Merlin! Me! I have swagger and you don't!" Arthur snarls. Then he grins. "After you're covered in horse dung from the stables, there will be no doubt in anyone's mind who is the most awesome.  _Then_ you can have the rest of the night off."

Merlin looks like Christmas has come early. "Really? Thanks, Arthur!"

He walks outside to find that it is pitch black. He'd forgotten how late it was – it is already past the time he should be getting off of work. He can hear Arthur laughing from behind him, having followed his servant to the courtyard. "Gee,  _thanks_  Arthur," Merlin gripes as he realizes he's been duped into thinking Arthur had actually done something nice for him.

"You're welcome,  _Mer_ lin," Arthur replies too cheerily. "You're most certainly welcome."

Merlin grits his teeth and decides that he might actually deserve this. He did, after all, almost kill Arthur – but it's not like he meant to! Glancing back at his doubled-over-from-laughing 'destiny' Merlin finds himself wondering if Arthur would still be the coolest in Camelot if he were, say, a horny-eyed toad or a light green inch-worm. The enticing thought swirling around uselessly in his mind, Merlin goes to do his extra chores, this time with a slightly happier step to his gait.

The possibilities are endless.


End file.
